Summer Little League memories

Rick Wimer

I was on the mound, Joe Erickson behind the plate. It was the last game of the season; The championship game!”

In 1957 I was 12 years old. It was a beautiful summer night at the Little League ballpark, now named Jim Reese Field, next to East School.

The lights were on. Fans lined the fence and filled the bleachers. Others watched from their cars from Fourth Street. That’s where my Dad was. I’m sure Jim Reese was in the announcer's booth above the snack bar. I was playing on the Cubs. Possibly the Tigers or Yankees were the other team. I just can’t remember. The head coach was Verdell Cox. Perry Cederholm and King Cole were assistant coaches.

The Cub players: Norm Wolff, Eddie Laird, Denny Miller, Harlan Schuett, Terry Cederholm, Joe Erickson, Denny Robinson, Steve Julius, Jim Kacmarynski, Verne Illum and Rick Wimer, myself. I was sent an old photo of the Cubs team. There were four coaches. I’m missing one name. There were 12 players. I’m missing one name.

The bright lights were vividly illuminating everything on the field. The grass was greener; the line markings were more pronounced. The dirt was, well, dirtier. The night sky, blacker. Our uniforms of white with green lettering and green ball caps looked amazingly crisp and clean. I was on the mound, Joe Erickson behind the plate. It was the last game of the season; “The championship game!”

Flashback: Baseball was all I cared about

The Cubs, as did other teams, held their practices at the North School ball field on the corner of East Seventh and Seneca. (I think). While growing up, at least until age 12, playing sand lot pick-up games in Ute, where I was born and Storm Lake was all I cared about.

This was my first time playing in an organized league. Initially I played third base. After about the second or third game, at practice, I was playing catch with our pitcher Denny Miller. He apparently thought I had a pretty good arm and told Coach Cox, who then played catch with me and subsequently started me as the pitcher in one of the next games.

I recall that first step onto the mound in my first game as pitcher was exhilarating. From then on, Denny and I alternated every other game. When he wasn’t pitching, he played shortstop.

Side-arm success

Turns out we, the Cubs, were pretty good. I don’t remember if we went undefeated, but if not, almost. I threw side-arm. Whether I threw a fastball, change up or curve, pitching side- arm simply confused the batters. The ball, at each pitch, would have a bit of an arc in it getting to the plate. I don’t think I gave up a home run all season and just a few base hits. Joe Erickson was my catcher. I can still visualize how excited he got when a player went down swinging on the third strike. He was a great cheerleader.

As mentioned, the Cubs were pretty, no, very good. So good in fact, that when Eddie Laird and I went to Boy Scout camp at Lake Okoboji that summer, to insure we continued winning, his dad, also our Scout Leader Robert Laird, along with another gentleman drove up to the camp, drove us back to Storm Lake just in time to play in the game. I can’t remember if they took us back after the game or the next morning. We won.

Sweet reward at Dairy Queen

Playing ball that summer had its benefits in more ways than just winning. After every game, we would all converge on the Dairy Queen on the corner of East Fifth Street and Flindt Drive for a variety of sweet treats. My favorite choice was always a thick chocolate malt or a chocolate/vanilla swirl cone — or both. The line at the serving window was always long and there could be quite a wait. However, I had an in with the owner as his paperboy and he would serve me out of the back door, avoiding the line.

Sweet on Judy Wolff?

Another benefit after the game was over was the long conversations with my friend and classmate Judy Wolff. We stood under the street light on the northeast corner of East Fourth and Russell Street; just across the road from the Gaes Trucking lot. Into the wee hours of the evening, we would talk about anything that, at the time, might have seemed important to us, or not.

People who observed there weekly thought we might have been sweet on each other. The truth is, she returned an engagement ring and refused my proposal of marriage two years earlier at the age of 10. Since then, even to this day, we have remained good friends. In fact, I just talked to her a couple days ago.

How I got a new glove (for a day)

One memory of that summer was a bit disappointing. My baseball glove was handed down at least, who knows how many times. It was just an old floppy underpadded fielders glove with no cool style at all.

I would frequently visit the Sportsman’s Store downtown on Lake Avenue and spend time trying on various great looking new ball gloves, trying to decide which one I would buy knowing full well that my paperboy earnings would make it impossible.

Surprisingly, one of the store staff who had observed my many visits struck a deal with me that I could buy a glove of my choice and pay 50 cents a week until I paid it off. How cool was that? I immediately left with the glove and rode my bike down to Chautauqua Park. I hung out there a lot.

I just admired my new glove and tossed a baseball in the air and caught it for probably more than an hour. Out of nowhere, my dad appeared in the parking lot. He walked up to me, took the glove and returned it to Sportsman’s. I’m sure I was admonished, but all I remember was how disappointed I was. However, I still had the old glove, and I could still play baseball. That’s all that really mattered. To this day, I remain totally clueless as to how my dad found out about it so quickly.

Back to the game and a mic-drop moment

The game went by in a heartbeat. As I described, there were fans everywhere. However, I was totally focused on the game. From the moment I stepped onto the pitcher’s mound, all I saw was Joe Erickson, the umpire Arlo Babcock and every batter that came to the plate. It was like having total tunnel vision. It was trance-like, seeing nothing to the left, nothing to the right.

I don’t think I gave up many hits, if any, in the innings I pitched. It turns out that I could only pitch, by league rules, until the third out of the last inning; as I had pitched one inning earlier in the week in relief of Denny Miller. So, Denny came in and pitched that last out with me replacing him at shortstop.

The very next batter, on the first pitch, hit a line drive directly to me. I caught it for the last out of the game with that floppy old glove. Game over. The Cubs were Storm Lake’s champion Little League team. And to top it all off, Arlo Babcock tossed me the game ball to keep. Mic-drop!

About Jim Reese

Jim was a local postal worker who started kid’s baseball in Storm Lake. I remember him as a kind, gentle man and how dedicated he was to Storm Lake’s program. He also announced the games in the booth above the snack bar and passed an empty coffee can around to the fans each game to collect funds to support the baseball program. I’m thankful for him and I’m sure that all who played back then and those who play now feel the same way. Thanks Jim!

About Arlo Babcock

Arlo was a fixture as the behind the plate umpire in almost all of the games I pitched. He was a Coca Cola truck distributor for the Chesterman Bottling Company in Sioux City. I remember seeing his truck parked in front of various businesses in Storm Lake. He too was a gentle man who called a good game of ball and strikes. He deserves the same respect and thanks from us all. Thanks Arlo!

Rick Wimer lives in Storm Lake.